In the Shadows Tonight
by emmaswanskillian
Summary: Neal's gone, but she doesn't need her mother's incessant worries or her father's embrace, and she certainly doesn't need Hook, at all. Except she does.
1. Chapter 1

**_I've literally been working on this forever, since we found out there would be a character death and everyone started guessing it would probably be Neal. _**

**_(1/2)_**

_it's like I'm torn  
ripped down the middle  
maybe I'm crazy  
not a lot, just a little  
just a little bit_

There's too much fog on the ground, and Emma can already barely breathe as it is. Her throat is closing up and her hands are shaking so much that even gripping the fabric of her jeans as tightly as possible does little to soothe them.

It isn't fair.

"Emma! Where are you?"

She hears her mother's voice, but she feels completely numb, her entire body as ice cold as the tree against her back and the ground below her. A sob escapes her, making her entire body jerk. Pain shoots through her and she cries out again, fighting the black hole of piercing grief threatening to tear her apart.

Snow finds her eventually, but Emma doesn't hear her words and doesn't feel her worrying touch. Somehow she winds up back inside the castle's walls, but she doesn't remember the events that got her there. She can't feel anything other than this sinking knowledge that she's lost someone else important to her. Someone important to her son.

There's no way for her to accept that Neal is dead. She can't wrap her mind around that out of all the people they could have lost fighting the Wicked Witch, it was him who paid the price.

It isn't fair.

* * *

It's hours later when she's aimlessly wandering the halls that Hook finally finds her, and he looks just as completely devastated as she does.

Not that it matters at all.

"Emma," he says, and she shakes her head almost automatically against the concern in his voice. Any other day, it would be a welcome sentiment, but at the moment, it pulls at what little resolve she has left.

"Don't, Hook," she snaps, almost immediately regretting it when he coils back from her the slightest bit. She chooses a more resigned tone, sighing. "I know this probably... gives you what you wanted, but don't."

He inhales sharply, and she can see his heart breaking before her eyes, but she's much too cold now to do anything about it. Something somewhere deep inside her stirs, and she knows what she's said is wrong, but she presses her lips together and puts on a carefully neutral expression.

The words hang there for a moment until he finally seems to find his voice. "Do you really think I'm that low of a human being?

His voice is dangerously low when he speaks and she can hear the pain and disappointment laced in his tone. As for where his disappointment is directed, she isn't sure. She's convinced that at this point, it doesn't matter anyway. "I thought... I thought maybe I had at least earned a bit of your respect, if nothing else."

She looks down at the ground, unable to meet his eyes anymore and keep up the tough charade. She can't even find it in her to shake her head or give him any indication that he's right- that he has earned her respect.

He certainly doesn't deserve her spite.

It isn't his fault Neal is dead.

After a prolonged silence in which she can't get a single word out of her mouth, he sighs dejectedly. "Love, I understand how-"

Her heart yanks at the word "love" falling from his lips, the term of endearment less soothing than she remembers, and she cuts him off.

"No, you don't." Something breaks inside of her, and the words fall out of their own accord before she can register it happening. "You have no idea how this feels. You were the one who told me that I was going to have to make a choice, remember? I was trying to figure out how I was supposed to do that. I was trying so hard to get through the damned puzzle in my mind that kept me from going one way or the other. I didn't know what to do, I was just hoping that eventually all of this crap would slow down long enough for me to work through everything. I knew that if I just had some time I would know how to... and I was trying not to let anyone get hurt in the process, and... I just wanted to get through this... this _mess_ with as little struggle as possible."

She takes a trembling breath, despising that she can't seem to control her shaking arms. Pressing them tightly into her sides, she tries to level her eyes at him, but the feat proves to impossible. Hook has the most shattered expression on his face now, and she shuts her eyes so that she doesn't have to see it. She knows she'll crumble if she does, and she needs to say this.

"I was supposed to be able to make a decision. The decision wasn't supposed to be made for me. How the _hell_ is that fair?"

"It isn't fair, darling," he tells her, and there's something different in his voice that she can't place. The softness of it surprises her, though, because he shouldn't be this understanding. _Damn him_. "But this also doesn't entail you to me by any means. If you think that is my current design, I offer my sincerest apologies for anything I did that lead you to believe I am that kind of man."

He pauses, and she can imagine he's looking at her, but she can't make herself open her eyes to see for sure.

"Swan, if you don't love me, then you don't love me. This doesn't change that and it certainly doesn't force you into a decision that you don't want to make before you've even had time to heal." He sounds so unbearably sad that she almost wants to put her hands over her ears to block out his voice.

_This isn't even about him_.

She takes a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart, but she should know that at this point, trying isn't getting her anywhere.

She had tried to protect all the people that she cared about, but that hadn't worked out very well for her. She had tried to be strong for the people around her after Neal had been killed, but that had only lasted for about five minutes before she'd run off into the woods, away from everything.

And now, here she is, trying to explain how she feels to this stupid pirate who'd messed up and fallen for her, and she doesn't even really know why she's trying so hard. It isn't like she owes him anything. She could easily tell him to get lost, and she knows that he would listen to her and respect her decision.

But that definitely wouldn't make things any better.

"I don't know what to do," she finally says with honesty ringing in her tone as the rest of her red, hot anger rushes out of her in a defeated sigh. Her back hits the wall behind her and she sinks down onto the floor across from her bedroom door. She lets her gaze linger on his feet in front of her for fear that looking up at him would be a mistake. "I don't know how to pick up these pieces and move on when he..."

Her breath runs out and forcing air into her lungs is more difficult than it should be. There's a throbbing pain in her chest, a soreness almost that makes it harder for her to breathe. For a moment, she focuses on inhaling and exhaling, and then she pulls her knees to her chest, resting her chin in the valley between them.

"I..." She grimaces, wishing she was better with words. "I... care about you, too. You know that, right?"

She looks up at him then, because he _should_ know that. The change in conversation seems to startle him a bit and his eyes widen. He recovers fairly quickly, clearing his throat.

"I do."

"But I loved him at one point, and after everything... Part of me still did, and... that has _nothing_ to do with you. At all. My story with Neal has nothing to do with you or my parents or anyone other than maybe Henry, but that still doesn't..." She stops, shrugging her shoulders a little as the sentence falls short. Her gaze falls away from his face and back to the ground.

She swallows with some difficulty, taking a deep breath. Her body has finally stopped its incessant trembling, her muscles giving up as the rush of adrenaline and emotion she'd been bombarded with finally seems to runs out.

"Look." Her tone is formal and rigid suddenly, but she tells herself that it's okay. She tells herself that it's easier this way. "I appreciate all of your help lately..."

"But he was your first love, and those are never easy to forget."

A rush of guilt floods Emma's body, partly because he's right and mostly because here she is, berating him for not understanding when she couldn't be more wrong.

He knows exactly how it feels to lose someone you love.

She glances up at him through her lashes, apologies that she should probably give dying before they can even form in her mind. He's hurting, too, and she knows that, but can't find the words that would say what she needs them to. She can see layers of pain- grief, loss, despair- in his eyes, mirroring her own, as if the demons that attached to him when he lost Milah still follow him around. Maybe they disappear sometimes, but then they reappear in the wakes of a situation such as this one. She studies him for a moment, surprised to find that even though there is a nearly tangible darkness lingering with him, there's something so open about his expression, his eyes the most gentle she's ever seen them. He's standing right in front of her, just out of arms reach. The comfort that his embrace would surely allow is tempting, but it also has the ability to unravel her completely.

She squeezes her eyes shut again, shaking her head. She can't fight anymore.

Not tonight.

"I'm sorry," she tells him as genuinely as she can manage, though the statement sounds off to her ears. She stands quickly and brushes past him into her room, closing the door on him.

Her back hits the door with a thud and she slides down it, wrapping her arms around herself and letting the rush of tears fall down her cheeks. She wipes at them furiously, but when they don't slow she just presses her face into her knees until she can't see anything but black.

It's only a few seconds later that she hears Hook sigh heavily and leave before silence encompasses her.

A knock at her door pulls her from the emptiness a few moments later and she stands to open it, expecting to see Hook standing on the other side with his wide eyes, trying to offer comfort again, but instead she finds her son.

He isn't crying, though it looks as if he's already done his fair share. His eyes are rimmed red and beneath them his skin is still a little damp. He asks to come inside and when she opens the door he comes in and sits on her bed without saying anything. His lips are pursed and his brow furrowed as he threads his fingers together, staring at them in his lap.

"What is it, Henry?" she asks, clearing her throat when her voice comes out scratchy and hoping he didn't notice.

She sits down beside him, wary of what's going to come out of his mouth. "We're going to be okay," he says slowly, nodding vigorously to himself and then looking up at her. His tone doesn't sound very convinced. "Right?"

Her throat closes up for a moment before the parent in her finally kicks in, lifting her chin and giving her a reason to be alright for the moment. Henry is looking up at her, his eyes expectant, and she knows he's depending on the answer that she gives him.

She wraps an arm around his shoulders, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Yeah, kid," she tells him, resting her chin on his head in what she hopes emanates affection. "We will be."

Henry nods again, a quiet surrounding them for a moment. "You know Hook is just trying to be here for you because he cares about you." There's a pause, as if he's scared he's said the wrong thing. When Emma says nothing, he continues slowly. "I... heard a little bit of what happened earlier. I think everyone just... wants us to know that they love us and that they're here for us. They know this isn't easy. They're just reminding us... we aren't alone."

Emma's heart pulls, tearing at what little strength she has left after the day that has felt as long as a lifetime. She sees flashes of Hook's face as she yelled at him in the hallway. She can imagine his expression had changed little in all the time she'd kept her gaze off of his face. The broken look in his eyes lingers in her memory, and she closes her eyes to try to force it away.

Henry needs her attention, not Hook.

Emma says nothing, her mind flying too quickly for words to form. Henry is looking up at her understandingly, though, his eyes far too wise for someone his age.

"I have a question," he hesitates, looking back down at his lap. "Did you... still... love my dad?"

For a moment, nothing is said as the question hangs in the air. Emma swallows a couple times, trying to get past her throat closing up.

"I did," she tells him honestly when she's confident her voice will sound sure.

The sinking feeling is back in full force, and Henry must know because he wraps his arms tightly around her. "At least... he died a hero, and that's all anyone can ask for, right?"

Emma is speechless, her throat so tight she can barely keep air circulating in her lungs. A tear slips down her cheek and into Henry's hair. She lifts her free hand and wipes the streak it left away quickly. Taking a calming breath, she holds him just a little tighter.

"How come you're so much smarter and stronger than me, huh?" she asks him, another tear falling down her face.

He doesn't answer, only leans closer to her and closes his eyes. Emma lets her own fall closed, making a single wish that they're both right and everything will wind up being okay.

Because right now, things certainly don't feel that way.

"I'm really going to miss him," Henry mumbles into her shirt and this time his voice cracks. It's as if he'd been portraying his own strength simply for her sake, and like her, he doesn't want to fight the hurt anymore.

"Me, too, kid." She kisses his head, trying to offer him the comfort that he's grasping for. "Me, too."

* * *

_follow the lights  
that's how it goes  
but what about the shadows?  
they hide the secrets that no one knows_

A week passes much slower than any of the others Emma has ever experienced. The days are long and dragging as they try to tie up loose ends where the Wicked Witch was concerned. Once things have finally settled, Emma sleeps late that next day, getting the rest her body so desperately craves. Physically, of course. Mentally and emotionally, everything still feels too far gone to ever be restored again.

She hasn't spoken to anyone other than to plan and give requests to those who rallied behind them during the battles against the Witch. Eyes had been on her constantly throughout the week, but she'd ignored them because she had a job to do. Now, though, the job is done.

Now she'll have nowhere to run and hide from their worried gazes and concerned questions.

Her mother finds her first, bringing her a cup of tea just after she wakes. Emma avoids her eyes, refusing to make the contact Snow is desperately trying to achieve.

"Stop looking at me like that," she finally demands without force, sipping on the tea. The liquid is warm, but it does little to actually warm her.

Emma can almost feel the disparaging look on her skin, but she doesn't want her mother's sympathy. She doesn't want anyone's sympathy. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. After everything."

_Everything. _

Nobody can say the words that still linger in everyone's ears. Everyone knows what goes in the blank.

A shrug of her shoulders with no response effectively removes Snow from the room, and Emma resents herself for pushing her mother away.

It's just easier.

David is next on the list, wrapping an arm around her as she walks into the kitchen and grabs a muffin. His touch feels awkward for the first time she can remember, but she lets him press a kiss to her head anyway. If it makes him feel better about_ everything_, why not?

She ignores the glances sent her way throughout the day, spending most of it just walking around the grounds in order to avoid interacting with people. At least, that's what she tells herself. Mostly, she's just trying to avoid _him_.

Hook hasn't spoken to her since they'd talked in the hallway the night after Neal died, and the memory of how she'd treated him eats at her constantly. He didn't deserve that, she tells herself over and over, wondering how she could have handled it better.

She definitely should have treated him differently.

Maybe she shouldn't have talked to him at all. It certainly would have avoided the harshness of her words. She had been a wreck, and she'd lashed out at him when all he had been trying to do was help. That's all anyone is trying to do.

It's just hard to look at it that way.

He'd been around, though, by her side through most of the week. Physically, he'd never been closer. His presence had been welcome then, when there was a job to do.

Now, though, she can't imagine seeing his face because she has no idea what she would say.

She knows she can't take never seeing him at all. The time will come pretty soon where she'll miss him. Eventually, she's going to need her friend.

Right now, she has no words to tell him what he needs to hear, and there's no way in hell she can tell him what she knows he wants to hear, so when she catches sight of him walking toward his ship later in the day, she watches his retreating back and wishes she was strong enough to go up and wrap her arms around him.

She craves the ability to let herself love him.

She wants to go after him. She almost does- but in the end, he disappears into the Jolly Roger, leaving Emma feeling unmistakably alone.

It's almost enough to make her feel like she really is.


	2. Chapter 2

_there's mountains in my mind  
I keep on trying to move them  
and I'm just wasting time  
cause you can't move a mountain  
and they'll never move for you  
there's gotta be more than this _

_"I... care about you, too. You know that, right?"_

_"I'm sorry."_

The words from the conversation he'd had with Emma the week before repeat themselves over and over in Killian's mind, and he knows that soon enough, they'll drive him mad. He knows what the descent into insanity feels like, and he's fully aware of the beginning stages.

If only it were so easy to stop letting her voice fill his thoughts.

Along with her words, full of honesty and overpowering grief, comes the broken picture of the woman that he loves, sitting on the floor as if she is utterly defeated. A sense of longing accompanies the image, as he wishes he could just find her, pull her into his arms, and take away the pain she feels so deeply.

He's seen her upset. He's seen her doubtful of herself and unsure of what the future may hold. She's strong, though, his Swan, and she's proved it to him so many times, he stopped being surprised.

It's one of the things he admires most about her, and that list has gotten rather long.

He never imagined he would have to see her so devastated for such a prolonged period of time. It's understandable, of course. She's lost someone important to her, and there has to be a period of mourning. Killian knows all too well how that feels.

He knows better than anyone that a mourning period for someone important can go on for years. Even the toughest fall privy to its despair, no matter how much they try.

It makes him feel practically useless, because this hurt is much too deep.

This isn't a cut he can wash with rum and wrap a bandage around. This is not self doubt that he can take away with words full of assurances and faith. It's not a battle or a journey that friendly company and a helping hand can make easier.

This isn't something he can fix.

He hates that.

* * *

"We certainly have had our share of adventure this week, haven't we darling?" Killian says out loud to the Jolly Roger, patting the side of the ship. He pulls out his flask, taking a generous drink and welcoming the burn that accompanies the liquid down his throat.

_"You alright, mate?" _

_"Yeah, I just... I have a really bad feeling about today."_

Killian sighs, heading down to his quarter's and sitting down on his desk, his entire body feeling as heavy as his heart. Baelfire had been so adamant about the sense of dread he'd felt. Perhaps if Killian had listened to him, he could have saved him.

_"As long as everything goes according to David and Emma's plan, I feel certain that things will work out alright." _

_"I don't know. I know it's a good plan and I'm sure Emma will be fine. I mean, she always is, but... I don't know. I just have this feeling like something bad is going to happen." _

The scene is playing out in Killian's mind, the way Baelfire had stared off into the forest for the longest time before making eye contact again. He squeezes his eyes shut, downing another swallow of rum.

_"I think maybe... we should promise each other that if something happens to one of us, the other makes sure Emma is taken care of." _

_"Emma takes care of herself, mate. She doesn't need one of us to do it for her." _

_"Just promise me. I'm promising you." _

Killian had hesitated, but the sincerity and desperation burned into Baelfire's features were piercing, and so he had offered his hand.

_"Promise, mate." _

He should have bloody listened. Maybe circumstances would have worked out differently if he had.

Another toss back of the flask, and the scene becomes a little fuzzier. He swirls the liquid around in the container, thinking he definitely has enough that he can get drunk off of and forget, just for the night.

Nothing can be done about could haves or should haves. The past can't be rewritten.

But Killian desperately wishes that it could.

* * *

He sees Emma around the forest over the next few days, but he doesn't let his gaze linger on her for too long. His heart isn't ready for what would happen if she happens to feel his eyes on her and see him watching her. None of the scenarios he pictures in his mind are pleasant.

She seems fine to the naked eye, and the people greet her kindly with smiles that don't quite scream sympathy, but it's close enough. Emma is gracious, just as she always is, accepting their kindness with a smile of her own, but Killian can see the circles under her eyes. There's a tiredness in her features that he couldn't miss.

It's only been a week, he tells himself repeatedly. She still needs time to heal.

And she doesn't need him for that.

It doesn't make him feel any less bloody useless.

Her family has her well taken care of, and often, he sees her walking around with Henry on the beach or on a path near the castle. This is time that he knows they need, together, to mourn the loss of someone they cherished so deeply.

An intrusion would be bad form.

A few days later, he finally makes a visit to Baelfire's grave. It's a simple set up, as everyone agreed he would have wanted. There is no elaborate decorations or fancy arrangements.

It's perfect for him.

Killian sits down on the bench just beside the slab of stone, staring down at the small carved words. He'd done some of them himself, though that wasn't a well known fact. It hadn't needed to be.

Two names are listed first on the rock- the one Killian knows him by and the one Emma knew him by. Next is the years that he lived with a dash of immense meaning between the two numbers. Just under that are the simple words, "Father, Son, and Friend".

The scene painted seems so serene and peaceful, but the shadows of the stone and fresh dirt hide the pain and devastation that the death has wrought on the entire Enchanted Forest. Baelfire was a friend to the kingdom, and this loss is felt throughout the land.

"I should have listened to you," Killian whispers, feeling a bit silly for talking to a tombstone, but there are things he needs to say that he can't say to anyone else.

Because there is no one else that seems willing to listen for the time being.

"Perhaps... I could have done something if I had been paying more attention. I could have saved us all this trauma if I had taken heed to your words." His voice sounds strange to his ears, and he uncaps his rum and takes a sip. The alcohol offers a comforting warmth, the only one he can seem to find lately.

A temporary solution to a permanent problem is all it is.

He knows that, but he's denying it until he figures out another way to get by.

The answering silence around him is deafening, with not even the sounds that usually plague the forest reaching his ears. There are no noises of crickets or birds or other wildlife fluttering about.

Perhaps even they are aware that this is a time of deep sadness.

"Maybe if I had considered your words with more seriousness, I could have prevented Emma and the others from feeling the agony of this loss." Killian swallows thickly, closing his eyes tightly. "I'm sorry, mate."

He hates feeling like an apology isn't anywhere near enough.

* * *

_I'm feeling scared for what I see  
__giving it all, trusting me  
__so I'll just breathe_

Two weeks after Baelfire's death, Killian hears footsteps on his deck, and is surprised to find Emma walking about, her fingers lazily running along the sides of the ship, the wheel. Something is stewing just beneath her features. She stops at the wheel, leaning against the side of the ship just behind it, her hands braced on the railing.

"Where have you been?" she asks as he makes his presence known, pushing herself up to sit on the edge of the ship, crossing her feet in front of her.

He walks up to where she is, standing in front of her with brows furrowed. "I've... I've been here, love. I haven't gone anywhere."

Something twitches in her face, her lips pursing as she looks off her left shoulder, out into the sea. There's anger on her face, but it isn't the same anger that he saw the last time they spoke. This one is different. It's been brewing, and it isn't as rampant. It's cool and controlled, but burning bright enough to put a bit of fire behind her eyes.

She isn't just angry.

She's _upset_.

And she's _showing_ it.

Killian tries to brush it off as her still missing Baelfire and still carrying the hurt that his death has caused, but there's something different about the emotion on her face, something boiling beneath the surface of her calm demeanor, and his stomach sinks.

He waits, though, unsure of what to say. She shakes her head after a moment, and when she turns back to him, there are tears in her eyes. The anger has muted since she looked away, but it's been replaced with something that resembles disappointment.

His gut twists uncomfortably as he braces himself for either yelling or a disappointed murmur, though he isn't sure which he would prefer.

"No..." Her head shaking is slightly more persistent. "_Where were you_?"

Her eyes lock with his, and suddenly awareness dawns on him like the crashing of waves on the shore before a storm. His entire being sinks like lead, his stomach dropping even further as he looks at her. "I... I was giving you the space I thought you needed... to grieve."

She scoffs, pushing herself off of the railing and past him, only to turn back to him, running her hand through her hair. "If I had wanted space, I would have asked for it. I thought you knew me well enough to know that."

Killian lets his gaze drift to the waters, his heart breaking. "I apologize, Emma. I didn't know."

"Of course not," she mutters, narrowing her eyes at the side of the ship. "God, I wish everyone would stop talking to me like I'm a toddler!" she suddenly exclaims, throwing her hands up and rolling her eyes, though it doesn't necessarily seem directed at him. Killian tries not to show how the angry words jolt him. Her fire is burning again, her temper flaring as she paces a little in front of him. "I'm not a three year old. I don't need this condescending sympathy that everybody wants to throw at me. Why does everyone think that, of all things, that is what I need?"

Killian opens his mouth as if to speak, but she continues. "I mean, I'm not some fragile piece of glass, I just want people to be real with me, but all I get from anyone anymore, if I even see people, is this stupid crappy excuse for comfort, and you've been avoiding me-"

"I have not been avoiding you," he blurts, stopping her rambles that consist of a lot of hand motions. "I have been trying to let you grieve on your own, and my apologies for not banging down your door to offer my company. The last time we spoke didn't exactly leave that door open very wide, did it?"

The second the bitter, spiteful words have left his mouth, he regrets them, because her entire face falls, and the anger fades so far into the depths of her that it completely disappears. He didn't mean it. He didn't want to upset her further. She swallows thickly, and he can almost see the regret tinting her features as she looks around, avoiding his eyes. As usual where she's concerned, he understands. This sudden appearance was not planned, and the walls that had been pushed down because she was upset are going back up.

And it's because he didn't think about his words before letting them leave his mouth.

"I'm sorry, that-"

"No." Her sharp tone effectively halts his attempts at an apology. He closes his eyes against the blunt force of the nearly spat word. "You're right. I didn't exactly leave a welcome mat all dusted off for you." She shrugs nonchalantly, still not meeting his eyes.

It doesn't matter, she's pushed the guard back up around herself.

"Are you..." He sighs, feeling as if anything he says now won't matter. "Are you alright?"

A nod of her head doesn't convince him, and her strong attempt at a fake smile are pointless. He knows before she's ever spoken. "I'm fine."

He looks at her, her eyes rimmed red and hair slightly tussled, as if it hasn't been well kept to. "Are you?"

The question is a genuine one, because he thinks it's important to know whether she truly has done all the mourning that she needs to. However, one look at her is enough to tell him that the answer is most certainly a negative. She shakes her head incredulously, as if daring him to fight back with her on the subject. "Yeah, I am."

She stands as if to leave, and he stops her, because he can't her leave like that. "Honestly, Swan, what is it that you want?" She freezes, her back to him as he sighs. "You should be well aware by now that there is not a thing I wouldn't do for you, but I can't do anything if you don't tell me what you want from me."

A moment passes before she turns slowly toward him, and there's something different in her expression all of a sudden. The look on her face scares him, but he doesn't have time to ponder it because a second later her hands are in his hair and her lips are on his, hard and demanding, and _gods_, that's definitely the last thing he expected her to do. She presses herself close to him, pushing her hips into his almost frantically.

Despite the shock of feeling her against him, his body automatically melts into hers in a way that arouses a sense of déjà vu, but then he puts his hand on her waist and pushes her away enough to separate them. "Emma." Her name falls from his mouth in a broken whisper. This is not, in any way, fair. "What are you doing?"

"You said anything," she reminds him, her own voice scratchy with raw emotion. Her eyes are still closed, her nose pressed against his as her fingers tug lightly at his hair.

"I don't want you to regret your actions," he tells her, swallowing thickly as she looks down, her lips pursed. When she meets his eyes again, there's even more of an edge in her gaze. It almost seems dangerous, toxic and destructive.

It's terrifying.

"Maybe I will," she says, shrugging. "But maybe I won't."

She's toying with him, and the pain that accompanies that realization stings, but he still doesn't push her body away from his. She takes a step closer so that their bodies are once again aligned, her lips only a breath away from him. Killian groans, hating himself even as his heartbeat quickens with the want that she seems intent on satisfying. "I..."

Emma brushes her lips against his ear, and any words he had planned disappear from his mind. "Please."

And _gods_, it would be so easy to let himself fall into her sweetly seductive touch and the persistence of her voice. He could give in and let her have it her way. It wouldn't be difficult, as she's practically putty in his arms. There would be little fight involved with giving in to her wishes.

It's the most effortless choice.

He takes a deep, steadying breath. "Emma, love, we can't." His soft murmur seems to pull her back to reality, and she blinks up at him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully.

Willing every ounce of strength he has, he takes a step away from her, and her arms fall to her sides. He expects a fight, expects her to try once more, but she nods, closing her eyes as pain washes over her features.

"I know."

He wants to reach for her, and pull her to him to offer a comfort other than the one she was seeking, but she gives him an apologetic half smile that's more of a grimace before turning on her heel and leaving just as quickly as she had come.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Thanks for the reads and reviews! this story is now complete, and as you may know, it obviously doesn't fit with canon because they didn't stay in the enchanted forest and snow is already preggers, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. The song, if you were wondering, woven in the chapters is called "In the Shadows Tonight" by Megan and Liz._**

**_On to the story._**

* * *

_the walls of my room  
come closing in come afternoon  
'cause it's the same thing every day_

Two months.

It's been two months since he died, two weeks since she went to see Hook, and the loneliness is driving her crazy.

She hates that she feels so lost without a stupid pirate by her side at all times. Her entire being shudders at the fact that she misses talking to him more than anything. It doesn't make sense that not seeing him is driving her so unbelievably crazy.

It's a hard pill to swallow, as much time as she's spent deliberately pushing him away. She doesn't want to admit it to herself, much less him. At the same time, though, "I don't need anybody" is starting to feel ridiculously old and depressing.

And lonely.

She can't go on like this forever. Knowing that his presence will make her feel better is one thing, but saying it loud to him is another one completely. Looking weak and needy makes her want to grimace and punch something, because that's not who Emma Swan is at all.

Would it be so bad to admit that she needs him?

Is it worth feeling small just for a moment to have him back at her side?

She knows the answer, and knows that it's only a matter of time, but she has the Charming stubbornness in her blood.

These things are never easy.

* * *

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." That's safe. Easy. Reliable. It's what she's said every time she's asked.

It's true, sort of.

It's a lie, sort of.

It doesn't matter, though. Her mother accepts it with a nod and a brief touch to the shoulder before walking away.

Snow always is the easiest to fool.

* * *

It's another week later that Emma finds herself sitting on the shore, knees pulled up to her chest, staring out into the ocean. Hook's ship is only a few yards from her, and she knows he'll see her if he's around. Part of her wants to make her way onto his ship, but she isn't sure if she should have the privilege.

She just hopes she hasn't ruined everything.

A sob of relief almost escapes her when she feels him sit down beside her, his shirt touching her skin for the briefest of moments. She wants to lean into him and spout off a million apologies that will never be enough, but he speaks first.

"When I lost Milah..." He takes a breath, and she feels his gaze warm her skin, but then the heat is gone. "I went crazy. You've heard the story. I stopped caring about others, because I became so focused on avenging her. It was all I could think about."

Emma puts her chin on her knee, closing her eyes and fighting back the stinging sensation threatening. Forcing herself to listen to his story wasn't exactly what she'd been planning when she made her way out here.

"Then I... met you. I had reason to go back to the better version of myself, and... I knew that I had found something to grasp onto and move on with. I didn't want to forget, but... I just wanted to get past all the anger." He shifts beside her, but she doesn't open her eyes for fear that the tears behind her lids will fall. She doesn't want him to see her cry anymore.

Her entire being is sick of crying.

"I would take that pain all over again if it meant that I could spare you of it, Emma." His voice is rough, and he clears his throat. "I have never in all my life felt so utterly helpless, and the matter of it being you only makes me feel even more worthless in the situation. I wasn't sure of what to do, and I was scared of pushing you into a pit that I barely got out of myself. I sincerely apologize for letting you down."

She shakes her head, though her eyes remain closed. A deep breath keeps her from trembling, and she moves her forehead to where her chin was resting, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. "You didn't." She curses mentally when her voice cracks the slightest. "I'm just... I'm stubborn, Hook. I don't like to admit it when I need help, I don't like accepting sympathy from other people, and I have never wanted to be coddled by anyone when I'm upset for whatever reason."

She opens her eyes and looks at him, only to find he's watching her. Their gazes lock, and she gives him a small shrug. "But the last two months, every single time I turn around, I wish that you're there. I want to have you beside me, even if you're not swaddling me and offering condolences, because that isn't what I need. I just..." She breaks their eye contact, because her head is fighting against what she wants to say. She shouldn't, because it isn't true.

Emma Swan doesn't need anybody.

Except she does.

"I need you," she blurts, closing her eyes again and refusing to look at him. Something inside of her screams at her to stop being stupid, to take it back, because no one should have that kind of power over her, but she continues anyway. "And I haven't ever needed anyone before, like this, and..." She puts her hand on her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache from the pounding of that voice in her mind that won't shut up. "I don't know how to handle that, I don't know if it's good or bad, and there's this part of me that hates that I need someone, but... another part thinks that maybe it's a good thing, because change is good. It's not always bad to have something different, I just..."

She falls silent, searching for the words that are so difficult to say. "I don't know if it was ever had the choice between you and Neal. This isn't some stupid romantic comedy." She knows her reference is lost on him, so she just continues. "But I..." She should stop. It's too much. "I have to choose to stop pushing you away when you're just trying to help, and I have to choose to stop letting this incessant need to feel in control run my life. It's so stupid and it's keeping me from... things that are important."

There's a pause just long enough for her to take a breath, the dam broken in her mind keeping her words flowing. "I have a lot of walls." She shouldn't have to admit that. This is giving him too much. "But you're the closest person I've ever had to getting past all of them, and I figure that has to count for something, but I just..."

When she loses sight of some form of sense in her words, she stops, shrugging, still not looking at him. Maybe she should have said that differently, or maybe it isn't the right time, or maybe she just needs to get up and go back to the castle, because she's making herself look like an idiot. The voice inside her head is screaming at her that this is all a mistake, and it would be so easy to listen to it, to throw him a "nevermind" and to disappear until she can face him again.

"Love, look at me."

She hesitates, taking a deep breath before reopening her eyes and lifting her head. When she meets his steady gaze, the emotion present in his features steals her breath. "Did you ever stop to consider that I may need you, as well?"

And he's telling the truth, the truest statement she's ever been witness to, and that hurts her, because it makes her see that she let him down more than he did her. Looking away, she stares at the sand by her feet, pursing her lips as a small, bitter chuckle falls past her lips. "We're a piece of work, aren't we?"

His answering grin is short. "I suppose we are, love."

She nods to herself a little, her eyes finding the dark ocean again as waves crash only a couple yards in front of them. "Well, for the record, or for whatever it's worth, I am... sorry... Killian."

He takes a sharp breath beside her at his name being spoken, and she just waits for his reaction, because honestly, she'd meant to say Hook, but when she'd thought about it, it hadn't sounded right. She's wanted to call him by his name before, but it's something that she was afraid would mean too much too soon, but now that she's let the name roll off of her lips the way it has, she wants to say it again, over and over until she's out of breath.

There's a long, drawn out silence with nothing but the sound of waves crashing surrounding them, and then he speaks, his voice low. But he doesn't comment on her calling him by his name, and she isn't sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"As am I, love."

* * *

_and it's up to me if I want things to change  
yeah, I'm bored  
somebody rearrange me_

He doesn't see her for two days after that, as new news of Snow being pregnant spreads through the forest. The first piece of happy news since Neal's passing prompts the spring, it would seem, and the weather cheers up considerably.

The next time he sees her, she walks onto his ship wearing shorts and what she describes as a "tank top" that's a light blue color. As far as her modern clothing goes, however, he's certainly fond of this look on her. It takes him a moment to realize, however, that it isn't the clothes.

She's smiling.

"Hey," she says as she jumps up on the side of the ship by where he's standing. "I'm guessing you heard."

"Aye, love. I'm sure that the entire realm has heard the good news." He can't help but grin at her, loving the way that smile lights her up in a way he hasn't seen in ages.

"Everybody's so excited, and... at first I was kind of shocked and all, but... I'm happy for them." she tells him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and swinging her legs a little. Her feet bump his hip, and he raises an eyebrow. "I wanna go out on your ship."

He's taken back by her sudden change in conversation. "What do you mean?"

"Let's take her out for a bit today. It sounds like... like fun." Her smile has faltered, as if she's afraid her request will be denied, but she looks so hopeful that it makes his heart pull.

"As you wish."

* * *

She's laughing, and _gods_, it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. He can't stop staring at the way her eyes are glistening as she watches a few dolphins play a few yards from his ship. By now, he's sure she should have felt his eyes, but if she has, she hasn't shown her awareness.

A few moments later, though, she locks eyes with him and comes to stand in front of him. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks, tilting her head curiously at him.

He opens his mouth three times before he finally finds words. "You look... happy, Swan. It's... quite a sight."

His neck feels a bit warmer suddenly, but she's giving him a small smile of understanding and leaning against the rail of the ship with him. "I went to see Neal yesterday. It might sound crazy, but talking to a piece of stone that represents someone you used to care about is pretty... therapeutic. I feel better, now that there's a baby on the way, and I've had time to... think and all that. Plus, I have..." A pause, and he swears he hears her swallow. "I have you."

Her voice falters a bit on her last word, and she shrugs as if it will take away the meaning behind her words. "It's stupid, I know, but-"

"Not at all, love," he assures her, and he hates himself for thinking it, but he suddenly wants nothing more than to kiss her.

She smiles at him, and he swears she's read his mind by the tone of the gesture. There's a moment of hesitation, and then she grabs onto his arm for support before leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. When she drops back down onto the flat of her feet, she rests her forehead against his neck, her hand still on his arm.

"Thank you."

The statement is full, and the thanks he feels covers an infinite range, and he knows that this sign of gratefulness spans over quite some time.

"Any time, love." His voice comes out as a whisper, and he swallows thickly as he tries not to focus on how her lips felt on his cheek.

She waits another brief moment before finally pulling away and heading back to the other side of the ship, her eyes scanning the water. It's then that he brings his hand up to touch the spot her lips have burned into his skin, his entire body feeling warm despite the cool ocean air.

"Killian, look."

His name falling from her lips still takes him a bit by surprise, but he shakes himself from his daze. He takes a deep breath, smiling to himself as he drops his hand and heads over to where she is, pointing at more creatures.

She laughs again, and he swears to himself that he'll do anything in his power to hear that glorious sound more often.

* * *

"She's insufferable."

"I've encountered worse."

Emma shoots Killian a glance that makes him give her an innocent shrug. "I thought I had mood swings when I was pregnant with Henry, but my mother makes that look like nothing."

Killian's laughing a soft chuckle that makes her want to hit him, but instead, she just bumps into him as they walk in the direction of his ship, shoulders brushing.

The sun is setting over the horizon once they get there, and when they turn to face each other, goodnights faltering on their tongues, Emma can't help but smile. "I guess next time you want to get a muffin from the castle's kitchen, make sure it hasn't been invisibly marked by a six months pregnant queen."

He smiles, the feature soft as he fixes her with a gaze so full of affection, she almost forgets to take a breath. "I will most certainly do so."

There's a moment, a pause where neither of them are sure of what's happening or where they're going, but then he threads his fingers through her hair and presses his lips to hers gently, testing the waters. There's a spark, something resonating deeply inside of her as she wraps her arms around his waist and pulls their bodies closer together.

For the longest time, she'd felt bad about the draw toward the man wrapping his other arm around her waist. Time had passed, wounds had almost healed, and now, she's never felt better about anything before. The feeling is mutual, and she can tell it by the way Killian is kissing her, his mouth persistent but not pushy.

It's still terrifying, letting someone that close again. They'd tiptoed around each other for the past six months, but he'd been there, unconditionally, as she'd taken the time to pick up the pieces of herself and find a peace with everything. She knows that he kept her from falling into a world of unforgiving sameness and fake smiles that promise the sun but never come through, and for that, she's forever grateful.

When she pushes her hips into his and angles her mouth to pull their kiss deeper, a moan comes from the back of his throat, and her lips twitch up in a smile. There's a feeling that rushes through her, like after so much time in the dark, there's finally shade formed around her, which means the light is there, she just has to take the step out of the shadows to find it.

_in a world of same  
in a world of sunshine  
I'll hide in the shadows  
tonight_


End file.
